I Know What I Am Doing Honey Ch 03

After Thanksgiving my Master took me on my first extended trip. He rented a yacht and we cruised the Caribbean for two months. The company makes some very convincing passports. Some of the stops were really beautiful. One was a elite nude beach. Essentially to had to be a multimillionaire just to access the beach. I could not believe the celebrities I saw sunning themselves in their birthday suits. I can't name any names but a very popular male star is hung like a horse and it was refreshing to discover that some very famous babes have cellulite and cesarean scars. I even saw one or two other women wearing collars.

When I wasn't naked, which was a rare event, my Master dressed and undressed me. Probably the most fun was a nightie party in the Virgin Islands. My Master dressed in black silk pajamas and dressed me in the finest and skimpiest black attire. It was a teenage boy's wet dream, black stockings, barely there bra, panties that were essentially invisible and a diaphanous cover over all. My Master found me so attractive he took lots of pictures of me in the outfit.

That night he gave me his first gift. "You have been everything The Company advertised, Sweetness. I have really enjoyed getting to know you and you have been outstanding in bed. If I was not such a commitment-phoebe I MIGHT have asked you to stay on. In any event this is for you. It is yours to keep. Please wear it tonight and for the rest of the time that you are with me."

He gave me one of his sweetest kisses and presented me with a gift wrapped box. Inside was a platinum ring. It was studded with sapphires and diamonds spelling out the word "Sweetness". My Master had hung that pet name on me about four months into my time with him. It sounded better to my ears than "slave" ever did. I, on the other hand could NEVER refer to him as anything but "Master." Once I slipped up, uttered his first name, and had ended up in the cage. I gazed at the ring, it was gorgeous, I could not imagine the cost. Next to my very much missed wedding ring, it was the piece of jewelry I most treasured. I clasped it around my ankle and then clasped my Master in my arms. After a blow job of appreciation, I posed for more pictures.

When we returned home, I had the deepest tan of my life. My master worked hard for the first month. Utilizing all of his business acumen, he soon earned back every dime he had spent on the vacation. I attended to him and kept him happy between his stints at the computer and his tiring shouting into his microphones. It occurred to me around this time that we were a fully functioning couple beyond the simple master slave dynamic. George was still number one in my heart, but now, sometimes when I allowed myself to day dream, my Master occupied center stage. At night he was beginning to occupy my dreams as well. I hated the fact that I did not even have a picture of my husband. I began to fear that I would forget what he looked like, It was a silly fear, still it clung to me. The one image I returned to again and again was of running to and embracing George at the end of my tour of duty.

I knew that I had to keep my Master at least an arm's length distant from my soul. The Company literature was full of accounts of slaves who had bonded to their Masters so thoroughly they made a mess of their old lives. Very few of The Company's clients were interested in long term ownership. Even my Master, despite calling me "Sweetness" had already confided that he was looking forward to next year's model. "All I know for certain is that she will be a redhead." He informed me.

I knew that I did not want a situation where I was unhappy at home and longed for the touch of my Master. It helped that my Master was not really my type. Despite us achieving a certain compatibility, my Master's personality was far too prickly for my tastes. I loathed his silence as I just loved to talk. When my Master was in a good mood he was almost eerily silent. He would allow me to prattle on and on but I wanted to have a conversation. It was in those moments when I missed George most of all. George and I used to have such wonderful conversations!

My Master seemed to have few interests outside of his job. He had an eye for art and liked some sports. He had a fleet of antique and collectible automobiles. One of his kinks expressed itself in the fact that we had sex at least twice in every car he owned. He could rattle off the details of every car he had ever possessed, every house he had ever purchased, and the ins and outs of the derivatives market but getting him to talk about himself was virtually impossible. I did learn that he was originally from Central America and had come to The United States by way of Canada when he was fifteen. He made his first million at twenty one. I never got a handle on how much he was actually worth aside from a staggering amount. He took me to the opera and the ballet but didn't want to talk about them afterwards. I wanted to comment on the sets and the talents of the sopranos or the grace of the dancers. When I talked about those things he remained silent, his eyes focused upon my mouth. I got the distinct impression that the entire time he was listening politely, he was visualizing his cock in my mouth.

Still I came to respect him and built up something akin to affection for him. He praised me regularly and tolerated my taste in movies, so long as I sat naked on his lap while we watched in his home theater. He told me that I could keep most of the clothing he had purchased for me. In the bedroom, even though I was ALWAYS subservient, he gave me the impression that he respected me. He knew that I had a life to return to. He asked about George, and told me that he was a very lucky man. "I'm not the marrying type, Sweetness, but if I were you're the type of woman I would pick." were probably the kindest words he told me the entire time.

At the end of April I was informed by the company that I could create another message for my husband. I had no idea when it would be sent and that it would be censored. I felt it more than a little unfair that George could not send ME a letter. I wondered how many times he had had sex in my absence. I realized that I must have had sex with my Master several thousand times by now. I was not naive enough to believe that George would remain celibate; but I sincerely hoped he would not get seriously involved with someone.

In the back of my mind was the prospect that George would take his money and vanish and I would return to an abandoned house with a huge hole in my heart. I pushed that fear aside. I knew deep down that George was a one woman man and that one woman was me. I hoped that my letter would lift George's spirit. If he missed me half as much as I missed him...

I could never focus too long on that subject, my Master kept me hopping and was upset with me if I was ever less than smiling and sunny at all times. Once I had the most piquant dream, I was in my husband's arms letting out every aggravating thing about my captivity, letting the tears the flow, and he was holding me close, stroking my hair and kissing away each teardrop.

Sometimes it was down right weird being property. Nothing demonstrated that better than the second week of April when I became a birthday present! My Master's favorite nephew was turning eighteen. He would be coming to my Master's mansion shortly after, on his school's vacation. My Master informed me that I would be the property of his nephew for the week. I was stunned, but was able to keep that emotion from crossing my face. There really was no other response on my part, as I had no say in the matter.

My Master led me to a bedroom on the second floor of his mansion I had never entered before. The large room had one corner done up like a school room with a blackboard and a few desks. The rest of it was sumptuously decorated. In the closet were a lot of costumes. Master had me try several on. They were not quite my size, but an eighteen year old boy would probably not notice.

"I've had this room ready since he was seventeen. On that birthday we had a long talk about sex. Alberto promised me that he would apply himself to his studies and that I would give him some very nice birthday presents. Sweetness, I'm fairly certain that he is no longer a virgin but he has probably never been with an older, experienced woman. I'll give him a lecture on how to behave himself but if he mistreats you in any way push this panic button. There is another one in the bathroom.'

My Master showed me two almost invisible buttons set in recesses in the walls. Before he continued.

"As you know, I am not much for costume play, but Alberto confided in me that he has a hard on for some of his teachers and even the mothers of some of his friends. I don't expect award winning acting, just something that will please a horny high school senior. That should be a relatively easy assignment for a woman as beautiful as you. I will miss you very much, Sweetness, while you are with Alberto but one must often sacrifice for relatives."

As he said the last sentence my Master kissed me deeply, and gently stroked my body. That led to one of the most spontaneous and enjoyable sessions of lovemaking that we had. For that encounter at least, I was a woman he felt profound affection for. He was never like that before and would never be again, but the oasis of total bliss was beyond wonderful. It was probably my single favorite moment of captivity.

A few days later the nephew, Alberto arrived. He was a bit stockier and nerdier than I had envisioned. Before Alberto arrived my Master dressed me in some sexy lingerie. It was half wedding night trousseau and half Arabian nights. My master then had me step into a big cardboard box with a bow on it. I thought it was a corny as hell and had to keep myself from busting out in peals of laughter.

I remained silent and waited. At last I heard my Master's voice as he entered the room. Alberto opened his package and his eyes became as big a saucers.

"Never let it be said that I don't take care of my favorite nephew! Now Alberto, as with any gift, there are some ground rules. This woman is yours for the week. She will refer to you as 'Master.' She is very eager to please and very talented in bed. You can enjoy her as much as you like in any way that you like, HOWEVER, no violence, no rudeness and nothing less than gentlemanly behavior. This slave will contact me if you behave badly or violently. If that happens I end your time with her. Be a kind and gentle master and I will buy you the car you asked for for graduation. Screw this up Alberto and not only do you NOT get the car, I re-write my will giving most of my money to charities instead of you and your mother."

Alberto's eyes never left me as he listened to his uncle's words. My Master made Alberto repeat the rules several times before he made his exit saying, "Very well, I leave yo to your own devices."

The kid was a horny little bugger with amazing recuperative powers. He was very tender as he undressed me but after that he was a regular Speedy Gonzalez. It took me several days to tamper down his passions a bit. Once I explained that women usually preferred slow and steady to a rapid fire men, he began to calm down. He was not a virgin but being presented with me excited him as though he were one. He really must have had a thing for a particular teacher. When I was dressed in s very modest, non-revealing dress he called me "Mrs. Leeds" and I could order him around like an obedient puppy. To be honest having all that power was quite a kick. In the rest of the house my Master held sway, at home, George and I were essentially equals. With Alberto I ended up calling almost all the shots. I remembered being almost as horny as he was when I was his age, that made me recall boyfriends and lovers that I almost forgotten.

The week passed in a pleasant haze of blow jobs, cunnilingus instruction, a couple of sessions of anal and my pathetic acting. That I would never be even a marginal thespian did not bother my young playmate in the least. When the week ended, he even dressed me back in the first outfit I had worn for him and walked me back to my Master.

As soon as the kid was gone my Master began to make up for lost time. Inside me, his cum mixed with his nephew's. That thought gave me serious pause. It was one of the few times when I really wondered what I had gotten myself into. I thought that a weaker woman might have gone mad experiencing the kaleidoscope of emotions and sensations and demands I was subject to.

It was at this point that I really began to battle depression. I was essentially working twenty four hours a day, seven days a week with really not even so much as a coffee break . I could not say no unless I was in great pain, and my Master was not into that. I had been offered up to his friends and business associates, given to his nephew and mostly kept in isolation from the world. On top of that George was out there somewhere; I hoped waiting for me, but since I could never really communicate with him, I had to accept on faith that he would want me back. I don't have the faith of a saint, I only had the conviction that George loved me, but my husband was as fallible as any man. I could almost understand if he had decided to move on.

It was all I could do to mask my sadness from my Master. He really could not understand my situation. Once, overwhelmed, I broke into tears, seemingly out of the blue. What I need was a hug and soothing words. What I got was a harsh spanking and a night in the cage. By late May, despite the amazing weather in Miami, I was extremely down and sinking fast. My Master perceived that something was different about me but he could never really love a woman and support her emotionally, He was the rooster and he saw every woman as his personal hen. Her duty was to fuck him, to pamper him and, and keep her emotional needs away from his selfish soul.

My Master increased his demands upon me as the end of my time of service neared. He actually believed that he could screw the sadness out of me. Our relationship really began to change. I came to resent my Master. I bore down however. I never recoiled from his touch, as much as I would have liked to. I made sure my smile never faded and that I praised him constantly.

How I made it to the middle of June is something I barely understand myself. Apparently I have reserves that had been previously untapped. My Master took all the credit for my apparent turn around in spirits. "All you needed was a bit more intensive dicking." he said to me with pride. The truth was that inside I was screaming. I felt like a caged and desperate animal. And then came my final week. The thought of liberation raised my spirits considerably. I was amazed that I had never told my Master to go fuck himself when, one day, he tried to see how many blow jobs I could give him over twelve hours. His attempts to "cure" me had filled me with contempt for him. He will never know, and I can never commit to paper the scenarios I conceived involving him to exact revenge.

And then came my 365th day. I managed to put aside all my animus and be authentically nice to my Master. He actually was a good sport. He gave me a suit case and helped me pact the clothing he had purchased for me. We had a quiet dinner. I sat naked in his naked lap and he fed me like I was a little girl. He confided that he would miss me. I lied and told him the same thing. Since I would be returned to George naked as the day I was born back at the arena, my Master gave me a simple, short robe to wear in the car. The windows of the limo we rode in were so deeply tinted that I could not tell where we were. When we reached our destination, he slid a pillow case over my head and escorted me through the vestibule.

Between two hooded handlers he removed my hood, kissed me deeply and said, "Thank you for a wonderful year, Sweetness. I sincerely wish you happiness." with that he slid the robe off of my frame and I never saw him again. Suddenly aware of my nudity in a way that I had not considered for the past year, my handlers led me to the same dressing room where my adventure had begun.

I recognized some of the same faces from my first day. Some were sobbing deeply, others were all smiles. All of us were on edge as none of us knew for certain if someone would be waiting to take us home. All of us were stark naked except for our collars. In reverse order of how we had entered slavery we would be led from the room to the stage, where our collars would be removed. If someone was waiting for us we would both receive the second half of my purchase price and were were free to go. If we had been abandoned, a councilor from The Company would greet us and help us get on with our lives. More than once those of us in the dressing room heard sobs of grief coming from the stage of the now, mostly empty arena. I kept my fingers crossed.

At last my time came. I walked into the harsh, blinding light of the stage and knelt on a satin pillow as two hooded figures unlocked and removed my collar. I could not believe how much lighter I felt at that moment. I stood, turned to exit the stage and spied GEORGE! He had his arms spread wide and had a loving, yet concerned look upon his face. Never had his lips been as succulent, never had his scent been so alluring. After a kiss I collapsed into his arms and wept like a baby. George held me tight as I let it all out. My Master's hardness, my profound loneliness, the abuse and crassness I had endured and all of the good moments as well. To my utter surprise between my sobs, I realized that George was crying just as hard as I was..

George had bought me a really cute new dress with really sexy underwear for the trip home. The first thing I put on however were my engagement and wedding rings. The Company allowed us to take our time and cry ourselves out before a representative came with the second installment of my purchase price. I thought that I would be happy in seeing that second check but I just felt a profound numbness. I knew that I had lost part of myself during my year long sojourn. I had also taken something from George. What we had lost, and whether we can ever put our lives back the way they were are things we still do not know, even all these months later.

I have been spending good money on an elite psychiatrist. Being George's "slave" since I returned has been very easy. George's demands are light and readily fulfill-able. He gives me time off when I need it and he could never be a tyrant or a dictator towards me. I am so overjoyed that he waited for me that serving him is a blessing. We converted one of the bedrooms into a nursery. Our trip to Italy is next week. I think often of the Italian landscape, but far too often the clear blue sky's of Miami and my Master's pool intrude upon the vision and I find myself in tears again. I wonder when i will heal and when the hurt will fade. Then I look at George, smile and say to myself, "It is great to be back!"